Blood Runs Thick
by NightlyHour
Summary: Charlotte Kenway, pulled along by her father to the colonies, knows that everything there that involves her will have to be played by ear. That is, until she introduced to an age old war, her father a Templar, and her half-brother an Assassin.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Getting sick of these types of stories yet? If you are, I'm sorry. :/ This was honestly the best idea out of the others I had, so I decided that it would be the one I wrote. I will be taking this one slow, Haytham getting a few good chapters, then Connor once he is introduced. If I am butchering the characters in any way please let me know and I will do the best I can to correct it. I won't be writing out scenes from the game word for word, but I will be following the events of the game. Though, I will also be taking some creative license on certain things.

Anyway, feedback is encouraged. :) Let me know if my character is too much of a Mary-Sue, as it is something I am trying to avoid.

* * *

"Charlotte Kenway, pulled along by her father to the colonies, knowing that everything there that involved her would have to be played by ear. That is, until she introduced to an age old war, her father a Templar, and her half-brother an Assassin."

**Blood Runs Thick**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Light from the fireplace bathed two figures sitting in chairs in faint light, a man, who was looking over the chess board with a rather intense look on his face, and the girl, who was sitting back in her chair, also looking at the chess board, but the look in her eyes seemed off somewhere else.

She looked troubled, though the expression on her face didn't really mirror such emotion. The man, who looked to be about twenty years her senior, brown hair pulled back in a tie that rested just at the base of his neck, his face aged and naturally looked quite serious. Though, for him, chess is quite serious.

He picked up one of his pieces and moved it across the board, plucking up one of the girl's pieces with a bit of smugness in his expression. The girl remained where she was, staring at the board with that distant look in her eyes.

The man's expression became one of annoyance, waiting for the girl to make her move. He waited...and waited. She didn't move.

"It is your turn," he stated, his voice showing his impatience,"you have been still for the past two minutes."

The girl seemed to break away from her thoughts, her gaze becoming more focused as she sat up more to look over the board.

"I apologize," she muttered, picking up a piece and placed it down on the board.

The man made a disapproving noise, picking up a piece of his and placed it down on the board, pulling her recently moved piece off the board with ease. It almost seemed like the girl wanted him to win.

"You are a better chess player than this," he said, the girl looking up at him with a frown, "something is troubling you. If you are afraid of telling me, Charlotte, please don't be. I am sure your issue is not one I haven't heard from you before."

Charlotte placed her hand on her chin, looking down at the board again. "It is only a small issue," she said, picking up her piece as if she was going to move it, then paused as she looked at the board more closely.

"If it is such a small issue, it would not be causing you such distraction."

Trying to keep her face neutral, she placed her piece down, trying not to reflect the frustration growing inside her. She placed her piece down with a rather loud thump, not really caring where it was placed. She had lost interest in this game a long time ago.

"I am just thinking of unpleasant things again," she said, leaning back a bit and looked up to meet his gaze, "there is really nothing I wish to share."

"Perhaps it is about your father?" the man asked slowly, knowing that he was touching a rather sore subject with her.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, causing the man to smile slightly at her. She merely looked back down at the chess board, brushing back some light brown hair from her face that had gotten loose from the top of her head.

"Yes," she said, "I have had yet another disagreement with him, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Do you wish for me to speak with him about it?" her mentor asked.

"No," Charlotte stated quickly, letting out a soft chuckle, "it never helps. It has been settled, there is nothing I can do about it now. We are just too different, he and I."

"That, or you are too similar," her mentor remarked casually, placing another one of his pieces on the board.

"I have grown tired of this game," Charlotte snapped, mentally denying the idea that she had any sort of similarity with her father, "I wish to go to sleep, may I be excused?"

Her mentor seemed annoyed that she wished to leave in the middle of yet another game, but he couldn't do anything about her moods. Honestly, he was growing quite tired of dealing with her in a sour mood so it was best to simply let her go deal with it. He gestured for her to rise, Charlotte doing so quickly before turning on her heel to head towards her bedroom.

She paused, turning back around to look at him.

"Edward?" she asked, "does it bother you as well that you seem to be more of a father to me than my own is?"

"Master Kenway is a busy man," Edward said, standing, "he simply does not have the time to teach you the things I do."

"I understand that, yet he is _always_ too busy," Charlotte said, speaking as if her words left a bitter taste in her mouth, "he is at an opera, I don't see why he could not simply spend a night playing chess with me like we do when he is away."

Edward sighed, approaching her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I have said all that I can say on this subject. I'm afraid that if you wish to have an real answer, you may have to speak with your father yourself."

"Yes," Charlotte said with a rather defeated sigh, "I only wish I had enough courage to do so."

Edward gave her a small smile, "be honest with me, were you planning to go up to your chamber to think about this all night, or were you really planning to sleep?"

Charlotte blinked at him, clearing her throat, "I think you already have an answer to that question."

"Then, I suggest you come sit back down with me and play this game," he said, "if you wish it, we will not speak about this no longer."

Charlotte paused for a few moments, looking back at the game board before giving him a grateful smile, "I would much appreciate that, thank you."

* * *

"You are simply much too great an opponent!" Charlotte exclaimed, watching as Edward pulled her last piece off the board. She chuckled, shaking her head.

"You are getting better," Edward said, standing as Charlotte did, "shall I be meeting you tomorrow morning for more of your lessons?"

"I believe that won't be necessary," a new, yet all too familiar voice said. Charlotte turned around, a little startled, to look towards Haytham Kenway, who stood a few steps behind them with his hands folded behind his back.

"Father. Welcome home," Charlotte said, then paused, "what do you mean by that?"

Haytham looked at Edward, who was standing the opposite of Charlotte and seemed as confused as she was.

"I wish to speak privately with Charlotte," Haytham said, Edward nodding his head and promptly left the room. Charlotte watched him leave, then turned towards her father.

"How was your evening?" Haytham asked, walking towards her.

"Fine," she said, watching him with an almost cautious gaze. If there was something she had done wrong, she certainly doesn't remember doing so...

"What is it you wish to speak with me about?"

"I need you to pack a case," Haytham explained, "take what you think you will need. I am to set sail for the colonies, and since you are still under my care, I am forced to take you with me."

"The colonies?" Charlotte exclaimed, "what in the world are you doing over there?"

"My business is nothing you need to concern yourself with," he said, Charlotte's mouth slightly agape, "you are my daughter, and it would be indecent of me to leave you here while I travel overseas."

"Very well, but I only wish for an earlier warning next time," she said after a few moments pause, her voice shaking slightly. She decided that arguing with him will only result in her either packing a bag, or staying in London under the care of an orphanage.

"This is your warning," Haytham said, "we are to leave within the day."

Charlotte nodded, not happy about this new development. She had never been outside of London in all her life, and leaving was not on her list of things to do in life. Much less so that she would be in this new place with her father, and even if she had spent most of her life with him, he was very much a stranger to her.

"Very well," she said, "I shall start packing my things. Good night, father."

"Good night."

Charlotte quickly turned and walked away from him, the shock starting to fade and was being replaced with her usual anger and resentment she felt for her father.

_The colonies?_ she thought in anger, _has he gone mad?_

Still, this ''business'' of his was a normal occurrence, but this was the first time it effected her directly.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Here is the second chapter, which hopefully will be as good as the first. These next few chapters will be on the boat, a chance for character building and such. Anyway, I am very grateful for the feedback I have gotten so far and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

As always, feedback is always encouraged, let me know if anything is bothering you. Or you can drop me a birthday message if you prefer. :P

* * *

"Charlotte Kenway, pulled along by her father to the colonies, knows that everything there that involves her will have to be played by ear. That is, until she introduced to an age old war, her father a Templar, and her half-brother an Assassin."

**Blood Runs Thick**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Ships, vessels, Charlotte was rather familiar with the terms, but she had never been on one before. Her father said that they were simply getting a ride, but she couldn't help but feel a bit concerned. There was a war going on, wasn't there? But, as usual, she didn't express her concerns and they went unheard.

She stopped on deck, glancing around at the busy crew as it was being loaded. She met the gaze of some curious crew members, not really pleased with the obvious lack of woman. Charlotte jumped slightly when she felt a hand wrap around her fore arm, her gaze turning towards her father just to see the hint of something showing on his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"I believe our cabins are below deck," he said, releasing her arm once she started to follow him, "I have requested that we get separate cabins, as you seem to still be on harsh terms with me."

"As I have every right to be," Charlotte muttered lowly, looking up at him with narrowed eyes, "you are taking me overseas for a reason that I don't know of, nor are you willing to tell me about."

"And I hope it shall remain that way," Haytham said, "if you are so opposed, I am sure I can find you accommodation here in London."

"I would rather be on a ship with you than being placed in some orphanage until you return," Charlotte snapped, "_if _you even return."

"Well, then, now that we have that settled," Haytham said, stopping in front of an empty room, a single bed crammed off to the side with a small desk and a few windows along the side to allow in light. Charlotte peered inside, Haytham gesturing for her to enter.

"Here is your cabin."

Charlotte paused, looking over at him, "and yours?"

"Only a few rooms down, if you are so concerned about being so far away from me," he replied, Charlotte noticing that her case had already been placed in her room, containing some fresh clothing and a few books that she had managed to sneak in there.

"Good to know," Charlotte muttered mostly to herself. She walked into the room, peering out of the open window at the docks. Soon, it would be open ocean with nothing all that stimulating in sight. After a few moments, she heard her father's boots march down the hall away from her, Charlotte letting out a breath and relaxed as she took a seat on the hard bed to wait for the ship to leave dock.

She couldn't identify what was making her stomach clench, excitement or nervousness. She decided to settle that it was a bit of both, her hand moving down to her stomach to try and settle a dull ache that was always there, even when she couldn't really feel it.

* * *

The sway of the ship was keeping her from completely falling asleep. It was comforting at first, the sea rocking her like a gentle mother, but her thoughts started to keep her up. Charlotte lay on her back, one leg off the bed to keep her foot on the floor, just to remind her that she was indeed still laying on something and she wasn't floating.

She wasn't able to really eat much, blaming it on nerves and kept to drinking water. Now, the ship was relatively quiet aside from the odd chatter between some crew members she would hear down the hall from her cabin. Charlotte felt her stomach clench slightly, making her wince. Every now and then the odd tremor would make her arms or legs tense up and shake slightly before relaxing once again.

_What is the matter with me? _Charlotte thought to herself, sitting up. She placed her hands on her knees, blowing out some air through her mouth as she looked down at the floor. She felt the odd need to get up and walk over to see her father, apologizing on the forefront of her mind.

Yes, she was irritated that she had to be on this ship for such a long time, and that she had to leave London, yet after she had time to think about it and see things clearly, it was her father's decision to take her with him. She was still young enough to be placed in the care of someone else, and even with his distant and somewhat cruel parenting, he still provided for her.

With a sigh, Charlotte stood up, allowing her back to stretch out. She waited a few moments to gain her balance once again, carefully walking towards the doorway of her cabin, gripping it for support as she peered out of it and looked down the hall. There was some light from a candle reflecting out of the room where she assumed her father's cabin was, and upon closer inspection she saw him sitting at the desk with a map and book open, studying something in his hand closely.

Charlotte made her way towards him, wobbling slightly on her legs from both their shaking and the swaying of the boat. She was certainly meant to be on solid ground, not out at sea. Once she reached the doorway of her father's cabin, she placed her hands on the door frame to keep herself from falling over.

Haytham had heard her approach, whatever he was holding in his hand being hidden when he clenched his fist, looking at her expectantly.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, Charlotte straightening herself up a bit as he said that.

"No," she said, "I have actually came here to apologize for my behaviour over the past few days, I understand that I am a liability," - _a burden, _a rather harsh voice in her head corrected her- "and the way I have been acting towards you is unacceptable."

Haytham seemed to brush this off, "you are forgiven, I've come to expect this from you."

Charlotte hung her head slightly, knowing that he had been. She was known for her fits of quiet anger, mostly letting it show through her words and actions. Still, she always found herself coming back to him and apologizing. She didn't really understand it, but she knew that if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to get over it.

"You look ill," Haytham stated, Charlotte looking up, realizing just how dizzy she was. She was practically hanging off the door frame, arms shaking and her legs only starting to as well. There was a small idea that she might just collapse, and Haytham seemed to see that too because he stood, tucking whatever he hand in his hand in a pocket.

"Come, sit down before you fall," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her steady as he lead her towards the small bed in the corner of the room, sitting her down on the edge of it.

"Thank you," Charlotte muttered, gripping the edge of the bed tightly as her world seemed to not be swaying as much.

"You are not going to be sick, are you?"

Charlotte paused for a few moments before she shook her head, trying to still her shaking.

"Good, good," Haytham muttered, walking towards his desk and pulled the chair towards the bed, placing it down in front of her before he sat down.

"How are you so steady?" Charlotte asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"Because I have been on a ship before," Haytham stated, "this will pass."

"I'll have to take your word for it," Charlotte muttered, shutting her eyes tightly for a few moments before opening them once again. She sat there for a few moments, exhaustion starting to take its toll on her. She felt more stable and at ease while sitting up, and she felt herself dozing off every now and then, only for a few moments or so before she would pull herself out of it.

She wondered if she should try and make her way back to her own cabin, but she didn't trust her legs any longer. Charlotte eventually found herself crammed into the space by the wall at the end of her father's bed, head resting against the wall with her legs curled under her as she slept.

She wasn't sure if her father had slept there as well, seeing as when she woke up he was no longer in the room and she could hear the ocean and much more noise.

Charlotte rubbed the sleep from her eyes, trying to gather herself once again to start a new day.

She had started out the day yesterday ready to spend the whole trip avoiding her father, and somehow she had found herself seeking some sort of comfort from him by the end of the day. At least she didn't feel like fighting with him at the moment, but knowing their relationship she knew that would not last all that long.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Once again, thanks for all the feedback. I am sorry that these chapters aren't very action-y, at least not yet anyway. Alright, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, as always, and any sort of feedback is welcomed. :) **

* * *

"Charlotte Kenway, pulled along by her father to the colonies, knows that everything there that involves her will have to be played by ear. That is, until she introduced to an age old war, her father a Templar, and her half-brother an Assassin."

**Blood Runs Thick**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Reading and studying didn't seem to hold much interest for Charlotte anymore, she could learn all she wanted, read texts and run over information, but without her mentor it seemed a bit...empty. Like her heart just wasn't into it anymore, and spending many nights in front of a lantern, reading over the words to only forget them the moment she closed the book seemed pointless.

Charlotte found herself wishing she had spent less time in front of books and learning more...active things. Such as climbing, maybe even fighting. Though, the idea of her wielding a sword or swinging her fists into the face of her opponent only caused her to laugh and shake her head at the idea. The climbing had originally gotten that response, but looking up at the main sail and the dark sky above it made it seem less like an impossible idea. She could visualize where she would place her feet, where to place her hands and just how to climb up to the platform.

The crow's nest.

Her mind was on climbing up there to see what she could witness. She felt solid on her feet finally, and she was starting to become accustomed to sleeping and living on a ship. So, the idea didn't seem all that impossible.

Charlotte wasn't one to act on impulses, but the idea was so clear on her mind that it made her believe that she could do it. Hell, she was already up on the deck, standing beside the pole that she was thinking of climbing with her hands folded behind her back, her face turned up towards the sky.

She was also looking up at the dark sky above it, listening to the ocean and a bell that would go off with every slight sway of the ship. Charlotte wasn't really scared of the height, she didn't really mind being up high, it was more about being seen climbing up. It was fairly late, having spent most of the daylight hours at a desk under the window trying to read over one of the books she had brought.

There was less chance of people seeing her, maybe she could do it...

She let her hands drop to her sides as she approached the wooden pole, looking up at it. Studying it.

_They never would have placed a platform up there if there was no way to reach it..._she thought to herself, lowering her gaze to look around the deck for anybody who could be looking on.

_You do not have the strength, you will fall. _

Charlotte paused at the thought, blowing out some air through her mouth as she glanced up.

_There is a possibility that I may regret this if I do not..._

_There is also the possibility of severely injuring myself if I miss my footing. _

"Coward," Charlotte muttered to herself, deciding to carry it out. She started to climb up the pole, making sure to be careful with her footing. Don't look down, that was her mantra in her head, knowing if she did she would most likely freeze up. Eventually, she reached a netted area of the pole just before the platform, Charlotte gripping the edge of the platform and pulled herself up. She groaned slightly when she felt herself struggling to get herself fully up onto it. She rolled onto her back for a few moments, finally fully on the platform before sitting up.

Her heart was racing, each sway of the boat made her feel like she would slide off. There wasn't much to grab onto, and she locked up. She sat still for a few moments, trying to calm herself. Carefully, she moved herself to rest her back against the wooden pole, not attempting to stand. Her limbs shook violently with adrenaline, and quite a bit of fear. Sure, she had been up in high places before, but they were stationary and didn't sway.

She sat still for a few moments, getting used to the movement and started to take in the sea in front of her. She couldn't really tell where the sky ended and the water began, the darkness of the night making it harder to see things.

It was still enough to make her want to stay up on the crow's nest the rest of the night, watch the sun rise. Maybe she was wrong about the sea, it was much more beautiful that she expected. Charlotte let out a breathless laugh, still waiting for her breath to catch up with her once again. Her heart was still racing in her chest, but it was starting to calm once again.

A grin passed her face, feeling accomplished. She did it, it was rather difficult, but in the end she had accomplished what she set out to do.

_Now there is the matter of climbing back down..._

* * *

A couple of weeks had passed, Charlotte had become a bit more adventurous, taking breaks from her books to wonder around the ship. On calm nights, she had some success at climbing up to the crow's nest to watch the sea for an hour or so, each climb getting easier. Still, she was worried about someone finding out and end up losing her viewing place.

Though, she didn't interact much with a crew aside from asking where a certain places were located. Charlotte also noticed her father talking with a rather grumpy and miserable looking man, who turned out to be the captain. Then there was a fight, which Charlotte didn't get to witness, but her father had made her aware about the relations with the crew and the captain.

Now she was more careful about wondering around the ship, hoping that she wouldn't become a target for men who wished to gain some revenge for the beating her father had given them.

Aside from that, she was starting to look forward to what awaited her in the colonies. Her father still didn't tell her much, but Charlotte figured they were on good terms at the moment and didn't want to press that by prying for more information.

But, there was something she wanted to ask him ever since she had gotten wind of his quarrel with some of the crew. She sat on his bed in his cabin, Haytham writing away in that book of his, an open book on Charlotte's lap.

This was fairly normal of her, she used to do it a lot when she was younger. Finding a room where her father was when he seemed to not be too busy. She would down in a chair beside him, or just sit down somewhere in the room and either watch him or look down at herself and imagine things. She didn't talk all that much when she was younger, only speaking when spoken to, but she found sitting in the same room with the man that was claimed to be her father helped with dealing with the fact that her mother was gone.

Back then, she still didn't understand about the fact that she was gone. Sometimes she would convince herself that her mother was travelling and she would come back for her, but the fact that it was her aunt that handed her over to Haytham seemed to reinforce the fact that she was _really_ gone. Not out travelling, but gone to where she was never to return.

Still, she found that just being in his presence was enough bonding for her, but after a while she found herself craving his attention a little more. A conversation, bonding time where she actually got to know him and not just his presence.

The ship seemed to be allowing her for more of that, though she found herself having a hard time talking with him. There was still the impression that he merely tolerated her...

So, the question she found herself wanting to ask seemed completely foolish. There wasn't any chance that he would agree.

_I am merely a girl, asking him to do such a thing is mad..._

Charlotte found herself reading over the same words again and again, taking them in for a few moments before forgetting them once again as the question came to the forefront of her mind once again.

She shut her book softly, folding her hands on the cover and looking up at her father.

"I...wish to learn to fight."

Charlotte pressed her lips together, watching as Haytham paused in his writing to look up at her.

"Pardon?"

"I want to learn how to fight," Charlotte stated, sounding more sure in her words this time. Her father let out a low chuckle, placing the quill back in the ink and turned to face her.

"Where has this idea come from? I hope you realize that you are-"

"A woman?" Charlotte asked, interrupting him, which earned her a disapproving look from him in her sudden lax in manners. "A _girl_? Yes, I realize. I have just been thinking about it lately, and I believe it will benefit me."

"If I wished for you to be able to fight, I would have had you learn at a young age," Haytham stated, Charlotte trying to repress the urge to sigh. She struggled to keep a polite tone with him, looking down at the book in her lap.

"I understand, but I do not wish to become a solider or anything of the sort. Just enough to be able to defend myself from people with less than pure intentions."

"I am far to busy to teach you," Haytham said, waving it off, "I also don't believe you strong enough."

"If I had been born male, perhaps you would have given me a chance?" Charlotte asked.

"Perhaps," Haytham said, turning back to his book, "though I do not see how that is relevant."

"Fine, I understand that you are too busy right now. What about once we reach the colonies?"

"My answer is still no."

Charlotte grew more and more irritated, but simply stood up and headed towards the doorway to exit the cabin. She paused, turning to look back at him.

"Very well, but I do hope nothing happens to make you regret your decision."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Alright, I just want to apologize for being quite sequence based with this chapter, but I hope I did okay. Haha. Here is the turning point of this part, so I hope that it worked out well. Anyway, thank you all for the response so far. It is very inspiring for me. :) Anyway, enough of me.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Charlotte Kenway, pulled along by her father to the colonies, knows that everything there that involves her will have to be played by ear. That is, until she introduced to an age old war, her father a Templar, and her half-brother an Assassin."

**Blood Runs Thick**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_She felt gentle fingers run through her hair, a soft voice humming a song to her. Charlotte couldn't move, she was forced to just sit there and listen. A smile crossed her face, her eyes shutting. It was a calmest she had been in a while, just listening to the sound of her mother's voice. _

_Her eyes opened slowly, turning to look up at her mother. She couldn't see anything, just a pair of arms attached to a pair of shoulders that were swallowed in darkness. Charlotte caught a glimpse of her hands, her mother's hands that were running through her hair with such soothing gestures. _

_They were pale, blue veins easily visible. Her arms were skinny, she couldn't tell if they were bones, her skin so pale. _

_Suddenly, she was five again, sitting in her mother's lap. Charlotte could see her mother's smiling face, her kind eyes, brown hair. As joy and relief washed over her, she felt another pair of hands grab her under her arms, lifting her up and away from her mother. Charlotte tried to reach out, to hold onto that fading image of her mother. She was rested against a shoulder, her eyes catching a glimpse black hair and a red ribbon. _

_She cried out, reaching her hand out as she saw her mother being swallowed by darkness. Instead of a gut wrenching cough she usually heard, she felt something. It was loud explosion followed by the sound of shouting, shaking her harshly from her dream. _

Charlotte woke to the sound of something hitting the water, loud and jarring. She could hear the captain yelling orders, she noticed that the sky had become grey during her sleep. She already felt panic from being woken from her usual nightmare, but from the sounds of things going on around her it wasn't giving her much to relax about.

Quickly, she stood and walked to the edge of her cabin, peering out. The lower deck was strangely empty, most of the crew must have rushed up to the deck. Charlotte noticed Louis Mills, one of the crew members she had talked with from time to time, leaning against a barrel. She started to approach him, to ask what was happening, but her father walked down the stairs before she had a chance.

He didn't seem to notice her, looking up as something was closed over the entrance. Charlotte took this chance to duck behind some barrels, watching carefully.

"Haytham," Mills greeted, watching as Haytham glanced back towards the closed off hatch.

"Have you been topside? It seems there is a ship that is meaning to board us," Haytham said, walking towards him, "but, it's strange. There is no sign of mutiny aboard, it makes no sense."

"_Ah_, but it _does_," Mills said, pushing himself off the barrel and walked towards Haytham.

Charlotte frowned, she had a sinking feeling about this and was trying to convince herself to sneak back to her cabin. This was none of her business, but at the same time, it almost was.

A ship was trying to board...it could end badly for everybody. She heard a crack of thunder above, more worry building up inside her.

"What do you mean?" Haytham asked, watching as Mills walked up to him. Charlotte raised her head a little bit to get a better view, catching a glimpse of the hard and threatening stare Mills was giving her father.

"Do you think you could escape London so easily after what you did at the opera?" Mills asked, "that we wouldn't notice? That we wouldn't follow?"

_The opera? _Charlotte thought, thinking back to the night where she had gotten the news about sailing overseas. Any sort of idea of sneaking away was gone now, her interest peaked.

"So that's what this is about," Haytham said, having not wavered under Mills accusation.

"Surrender," Mills said, "and I will see that you are treated with honour and that your daughter is seen to safety."

"If you wish to treat me with honour," Haytham said, stepping closer to him, "give me a sword."

Charlotte's heart was starting to race. This ship attempting to board, it wasn't for the cargo. It was for her father, though she thought he had just simply went to an opera...

What had he done?

"Are you sure this is how you want to play it?" Mills asked, Charlotte hearing the sound of a sword being unsheathed. She ducked down quickly when her father turned after taking the sword from him, swinging it around with skill.

Charlotte decided to stay down in fear of being spotted, she listened as the sound of swords clashing and barrels were being broken. She was working on keeping her breathing under control.

Should she jump in?

_I will only be more flesh to cut into. _

She heard a barrel smash rather close to her, Charlotte peering around the corner of her hiding place. Mills was on the ground, Haytham walking up to him. Charlotte watched as he lunged forward, driving the sword into Mills' chest. Her eyes widened, a gasp escaping her mouth. Mills stilled completely, laying limp on the ship floor in the ruins of a barrel he had been thrown into.

She noticed that her father turned his back to her, she quickly took her chance to stand and head back to her cabin, or to some other place, but in her shocked and flustered state, she bumped into a table. The contents landed on the floor with a loud crash, her head whipping around to see that her father had spotted her.

She met his gaze, her shocked and fearful one meeting his hard and slightly surprised one.

Over the years she had lived with him, there were times she was intimidated by him. Sometimes she felt flustered around him, but never had she felt this towards him.

Raw fear.

Her fight or flight instinct took hold, making her rush past the mess she made and down the hall. She didn't hear him follow her, Charlotte sliding down the wall of her cabin and clutched at her neck.

"_Oh my God..._"

* * *

She had to hold onto the wall, the sound of rain and thunder filling her ears and head. She didn't dare look outside, she kept her eyes firmly shut. Her shoulders were tense, a few tears escaping her eyes. She tried to imagine a place where she felt safe. She kept trying to recall the dream she had earlier, to remember the feeling of her mother's hands in her hair and voice humming a soothing tune.

But, all she could see was the image of her father running his sword through the chest of Mills. The stare he had given her before she ran off. It was like a compulsive thought, shoving its way into her head over and over again.

There was a lot of noise, thunder, yelling. Her father was up there, she wasn't sure how he was fairing. It was odd how she feared him, yet still worried for his safety. Charlotte shook her head, gripping the wood that was keeping her upright and waited everything out.

It felt like hours, it probably was. Things started to relax, the sea was calming and she was able to open her eyes. Her legs hurt, shaking from keeping herself upright. The ship was still swaying roughly, but she was able to sit herself down on the bed. She pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around herself.

_Mother's fingers..._she thought to herself, blocking out everything and focused on the dream. She felt phantom fingers running through her hair after a while, calm starting to wash over her. She wasn't able to keep that up for long. Her false sense of safety was ripped away when she heard her name called.

"Charlotte?"

She sucked in some air through her nose, opening her eyes to look at her father, who stood at the door. He looked a bit roughed up, but alright. She felt a bit of relief, but the fear was still very strong.

"Please," she said, her voice shaking, "just...leave me be. I won't tell anyone what I saw, just...leave me alone."

"No, we need to discuss this," Haytham said, walking into the room, "Mills, he was a threat to me and would ruin everything. He need to be dealt with."

"You killed a man!" Charlotte exclaimed, realization washing over her, "what happened at the opera that night? Did you kill someone there, too?"

"I am not going to attempt to explain why, but I do not kill people who don't need to be."

"I've been living with this under my nose my whole life..." Charlotte muttered, her eyes wide and wild. Haytham took a step towards her, raising his hands to show that he was not here to harm her. She seemed to press herself farther into the wall as he did so, if that was even possible.

"You are not my target," Haytham said carefully, "you have never been, Charlotte."

"What is so important in the colonies that you have to kill someone to get there?" Charlotte asked, Haytham's reassurance not helping her any.

"You are still so young," Haytham said, "I can't possibly explain this to you when you are like this. Just, please, do not do anything rash."

"How can I trust you again?" Charlotte asked, "I have told you I won't tell anyone what I saw, just please leave me alone."

"Very well," Haytham said, bowing his head slightly, "I will leave you be for the duration of the trip, but we will have to deal with this once we reach the shore."

"Then we will when that time comes," Charlotte muttered, looking away from him. Haytham took his leave then, exiting the room to leave the shaking girl by herself. She pressed her hands to her face, whipping away the wetness from her cheeks.

She didn't even realize that she had been crying during the conversation, but that realization only seemed to drive her into more tears. There was no place to go until the ship was at a dock, when that time comes she wasn't sure if she would be able to leave.

Though, all reason was telling her that she needed to leave.

_Yes, that's what I will do._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Here is the new chapter. It's exam week where I am, and lucky for me I only have one exam, so that means I have more time to write. Which also means chapters may come within days of each other for a week or so. Once again, thank you all for the feedback and I am sorry about how close to the game these last two chapters are. Though, I can't really avoid it, but there are some things I added for the sake of my character so I hope that isn't enough to bore you readers...**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

"Charlotte Kenway, pulled along by her father to the colonies, knows that everything there that involves her will have to be played by ear. That is, until she introduced to an age old war, her father a Templar, and her half-brother an Assassin."

**Blood Runs Thick**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Charlotte watched the seagulls circle overhead with interest, she watched them fly around going in and out of the fog. They had said there had been land spotted, and Charlotte decided that she wanted to see it for herself. So, she climbed up the mast and watched as a small speck in the distance became larger, buildings appearing, ships soon after.

She wasn't sure how long she had been on the ship, a month at least, and the journey was almost over. Well part of it, anyway. She leaned back against the wooden pole, crossing her arms as she looked ahead. She was so used to just seeing sea that the first time she really started to see the land, it left her breathless for a few moments. She kind of missed it, it would be nice to be on solid ground for once.

A frown crossed her face, realizing that she still had no idea what she was to do when she got to land. Staying close to her father had been her original plan, but with recent events that seemed less of a desirable idea. Still, she wanted to know what her father was doing in the colonies. Why he would kill someone over that, yet she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Her father certainly didn't.

He had kept his word about leaving her be throughout the trip, father and daughter only sharing passing glances every now and then. Haytham had his own things to do, and Charlotte made her own things to keep her busy. Mostly just thinking about what she was to do once she got to shore, and reading her book. She still wanted to learn to fight, but the desire had dwindled a bit after what she had witnessed.

A sound pulled her from her staring, making her jump slightly. There was no where to go, and someone was climbing up to the crow's nest.

_Wonderful, _she thought to herself, just looking back ahead of her once she saw two hands grab a hold of the platform. Her father jumped up with relative ease, landing on his feet and stood, holding onto the mast. He glanced down at her, Charlotte trying to fight a chuckle that threatened to escape.

"Hello," she said, Haytham only shook his head and looked out at the ocean.

"I had no idea you could climb up this high," he stated, Charlotte shrugging her shoulders as she watched Boston.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," she muttered, the two of them falling silent. She watched the land as the sun was starting to rise over the horizon. After a while, she quickly turned herself around and dangled her feet over the edge.

She lowered herself down onto the net and started the climb back down to prepare for when they reached the dock, leaving her father to stand up there by himself.

* * *

The fog had finally cleared, the morning sunlight greeting them as the ship finally docked in Boston. Charlotte glanced around the cabin she had called home for a long while, deciding to head up to the deck. She moved her way through the busy crew, coming up to the deck and felt the heat of the sun on her face. It was comforting, bringing a small smile to her face.

"Come," Haytham said after Charlotte had a few minutes to herself, "let us not waste time."

She didn't reply, but just simply followed behind him. She was kind of anxious to see what the streets of Boston held. Once they walked onto the dock, Charlotte was distracted by all the people on the docks. She watched people walking around and looked at the British soldiers in their red uniforms, a bit overwelmed.

"Master Kenway!" came a call, a man with black hair jogging towards them, "Master Kenway!"

"Yes? May I help you?" Haytham asked, Charlotte watching with a bit of amusement as the stranger forcefully grabbed her father's hand to shake it.

"Charles Lee, sir," he said with a smile, taking a glance in Charlotte's direction, "a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have been asked to introduce you to the city."

Charlotte moved past him to grab her bag, noticing her father going to do the same, but this Charles Lee stopped them before they could.

"Oh! There is no need, I have arranged for your bags to be delivered to the inn."

Charlotte backed away from her bag, just trying to stay out of their way the best she could. Charles seemed nice, if only a little insistent. At least she didn't have to carry a bag across the city to this inn.

She stayed a few steps behind her father and Charles, taking in the sights and atmosphere. It was certainly more lively and active than what she was used to, she wasn't really paying much attention to the conversation Charles was having with her father, but she couldn't help but listen in.

"Your commission is with Edward Braddock, is it not?" Haytham asked, Charles glancing back at him.

"Aye," Charles said, "but he has yet to reach America, and I figured that I might as well..." he started, then trailed off, Charlotte found it a little hard not to laugh at him. He sounded nervous, like a nervous girl talking to a man she fancied...

"Well, at least until he arrives...I thought..." Charles trailed off once again, Charlotte's attention now on him and her father.

"Yes," Haytham prompted, "out with it."

"Forgive me, sir," Charles said, "I had hopped to study under you. If I am to serve the Order, I can't imagine no better mentor than yourself."

_Order? _Charlotte thought to herself, the feeling that she wasn't supposed to be listening to this conversation became rather powerful. Her curiosity was peaked, though.

_Still, best to act like I am engrossed in my surroundings..._

"That is kind of you to say, but I think you overestimate me," Haytham said, Charlotte bumping into him slightly when she was shoved aside by a man running away from something. She heard someone call about a thief, a light sigh escaping through her nose.

She guessed every nation had their trouble makers...

"Impossible, sir," Charles said, Charlotte glancing back towards them once the man had turned the corner up ahead of them.

_This Charles certainly admires father..._she thought to herself, _maybe I should talk with him later..._

She followed after them for a while until the docks ended, Haytham stopping Charles.

"Hold a moment," he said, "I have to fetch a few things before we get to work," he glanced at Charlotte, "would it be a bother to ask that you watch Charlotte while I do that?"

Charles seemed a bit surprised at the request, but quickly nodded his head. "Of course, sir. It is not a bother."

Haytham nodded, placing a rather heavy hand on Charlotte's shoulder and gave her a hard look. It might have looked like a comforting gesture to Charles or anybody looking on, but Charlotte could see the hidden "behave yourself" under there.

Charlotte just simply forced a grin up at him as she went to follow Charles, who said something about gathering horses. Still, she took this as a chance to maybe get some information out of Charles. Then again, maybe she won't. She was never very tactful with gathering information from people without being completely blunt.

"So," Charles said, glancing to look over at her, "Master Kenway, he is your uncle then?"

"Father, actually," Charlotte said, giving him a small smile. "Why do you call him Master? You are his slave, perhaps?"

Charles glanced back at her, she was a bit relieved to see he got the humour in her joke. She didn't want to be stuck with a man she offended for how long it took for her father to get his "things".

"I don't see anything wrong with calling people by their proper titles," Charles said, walking a bit farther down the street.

Charlotte just hummed, lifting her head in fake understanding. "So, what is this...Order you speak of?"

"Your father hasn't informed you?" Charles asked, "why is it that you want to know?"

He seemed a bit defensive now, Charlotte trying to convey innocence as she answered him.

"I am only curious, it is rather irritating to be dragged overseas without any idea why."

"Ah, well, I believe it best to ask your father," Charles said, brushing her off and continued to walk.

"Yes, but you see, he won't tell me. That is why I am asking you."

"Then, maybe it is best you do not know," Charles said simply, approaching a place with horses. Charlotte frowned, realizing that she wouldn't get any information out of Charles.

"Very well," she muttered, coming to stand beside two horses as Charles spotted Haytham approaching a rather distressed looking man with a book in his hands.

"I can trust that you are old enough to stand beside these horses while I fetch your father?" Charles asked, Charlotte simply nodding her head and watched as he rushed off. She had the thought of leaving while the two of them were talking with the man, but she had no idea where this inn was.

She was growing rather tired of being handed off to people like she was some small child. She wasn't exactly twenty yet, hell she wasn't even eighteen, but she wasn't _five_...

She glanced over at a horse, who was looking at her curiously. Out of boredom, she started to pet it while she waited.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Alright, here is chapter six. I don't know if I like it all that much, but I have rewritten it to a point where I don't hate it...anyway, thank you all for the support so far and I hope I don't disappoint with this chapter. Enjoy! **

"Charlotte Kenway, pulled along by her father to the colonies, knows that everything there that involves her will have to be played by ear. That is, until she introduced to an age old war, her father a Templar, and her half-brother an Assassin."

**Blood Runs Thick**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

What a stupid, _stupid _idea this had turned out to be.

"What have we here?" she heard a man say, Charlotte could feel the sharpness of the object the man behind her had pressed against her back. She glanced towards the fort where she had watched her father, Charles, and another man, Thomas Hickey, enter. She had thought she would be safe, and she had went undetected for a while, but once the commotion inside the fort had started she made the decision to get out of there and return to the inn.

She didn't expect to be spotted out by some men heading towards the fort, to defend whatever was inside it. They had seen her jump out of the corn so close to the fort, and apparently it was enough to gain their attention. Slowly, she raised her hands.

"P-Please-" she started, but the leader of the group interrupted her.

"You part of what's been going on 'ere?" he asked, stepping closer to her. Charlotte tried to open her mouth, to explain that she wasn't, but the expression on her face must have been enough for him.

"You are," he growled, about to say something but a loud explosion from inside the fort caused him to drive his attention from her.

"Quickly!" he exclaimed, starting towards the fort, "take the girl!"

Charlotte then was shoved roughly forward, she didn't fight back. She was weaponless and they had a sharp object as well as a gun pressed against her back. Not that she would last in a hand-to-hand confrontation with these men.

She took note of the bodies laying about, but she had no time to really look at them, she was being rushed towards the inner part of the fort, where she noticed the door had been broken, by the explosion she assumed.

Charlotte caught glimpse of her father, Charles, and Thomas surrounded around, from what she could see, a chest. Though, she had no time to process what was happening before she felt the end of a pistol pressed against her temple, a hand wrapped tightly around her forearm to keep her from moving away.

The leader of the men walked forward, raising his gun towards the three men.

"Lay down your weapons and I'll consider letting you live," he stated, Charlotte watching with a sinking feeling in her gut. Haytham frowned at the sight of her, but then turned his attention to the man with his gun aimed at him.

"We have no quarrel," he said, "we only wish to return the chest to its rightful owner."

"There's nothing rightful about Mister Johnson," the man said, glancing back towards Charlotte, "we found your friend here hiding out in the corn like a little snake, you drop your weapons and I'll consider letting her leave."

Charlotte was struggling not to cry and shake like a frightened child, she felt the gun being pressed harder against her temple.

_Please..._she pleaded mentally to whoever could be listening, _let me walk away from this with my life..._

"She has no part in this," Haytham said in that calm voice of his, making Charlotte glance at him, "we have never seen her before, you have pulled an innocent girl into this and pressed a pistol against her head."

"Drop your weapons and walk away from the chest," the man stated.

"Release the girl," Haytham said, "you will get your chest, release her first."

The man narrowed his eyes, studying him. Charlotte noticed that Charles and Thomas looked a little lost, but they still remained with their guns drawn. Her eyes flickered towards the man as he gestured towards the man holding her to let her go.

The moment Charlotte felt the pressure of the pistol against her dead leave, and her arm released, there was gunfire. The leader fell to the ground, Charlotte catching a glimpse of the blood as Charles and Thomas charged towards, attacking the two remaining men.

She didn't have to be told, Charlotte was gone and running at the first sight of blood. She ran as fast as she could, running around the patch of corn as more men ran towards the fort. It didn't take long for her to reach the inn, her mind in a daze. She pushed her way inside, avoiding any interaction with the people inside and headed up to the room she was assigned, sitting down at the desk and pressed a hand against her face.

She hoped nobody would walk in on her, sitting at the desk and shaking like a leaf.

* * *

Charlotte had managed to calm herself down a bit once she heard voices outside her room, assuming that they had returned from their mission. She still sat at the desk, though she was leaning back and watching the people walking around in the streets of Boston. It wasn't long before she heard heavy footsteps walking towards the room, just pausing at her door.

She looked up to see her father, his hands folded behind his back. He walked into the room as she looked away, trying to think of something to explain her actions. She came up short as she heard her father walk around the back of her chair, he paused beside her, placing his hand down on the desk in front of her.

"Care to explain why you had decided to follow me? Disobey me and completely ignore what I had told you to do?"

"You couldn't have possibly expected me to walk around the streets of Boston or to be kept in this inn until you returned," Charlotte snapped, attempting to sound angry, yet she just sounded tired and scared. "Not after what had happened on the ship and what you and Charles had openly discussed in front of me."

"Ah, yes, that," he said, "The ship I could understand, you had simply heard what went on and went to investigate. This time, though, you had no reason at all to be there."

"I had only managed to follow you until you got to the fort!" Charlotte said, looking at him fully now, "for that, I am sorry, but I had no intention of being caught and captured."

"You should not have been following me at all," he said, "and, now, I am sure you understand the consequences of such actions."

"What are you doing here?" Charlotte asked boldly, "what is all this? I have a right to know, unless you plan to lock me up in this room for the rest of my life."

"My business with the Order is none of your concern," Haytham said, "you are here because I was forced to bring you along, not because I had plans of allowing you to join my cause."

"You can't possibly expect me to sit here blindly while you attack forts and kill people," Charlotte said, "do you really think I am that stupid?"

"Of course not, but as your father, I would assume you would have enough respect towards me to do as I tell you to."

"You are no father," Charlotte muttered bitterly, turning her head to look out of the window once again.

"Oh?" Haytham asked, "then, may I ask why you are sitting here and not laying on the ground, dead, back at that fort?"

Charlotte didn't reply, she just pulled her hands off the table the curled them into fists on her lap. He did have a point, he could have just let them take her life.

Haytham continued, placing his hand on the back of the chair and one on the table, forcing Charlotte to look at him.

"Very well," he said, looking into her eyes, "but allow me to make myself completely clear. You are _not_ to be following, eavesdropping, or spying on what I am doing. You are not to talk to any of my men about what is going on here, for if you do, there will be consequences. I am understood?"

Charlotte knew this voice well, the hard stare and the lowered voice. This was a voice that she had feared ever since she was a small child, and her fear didn't dwindle after all those years. Not after seeing what he was capable of.

She couldn't help but feel bitter, though. Being put down like a small child and to be shoved aside. Sent to her room back in London, locked up in a room here in Boston, it didn't make a difference. She was trapped, and as a child that was enough to keep her down, but not here. She would leave Boston if she had to.

"Charlotte-" Haytham prompted, but she cut him off quickly.

"I understand, sir," she said through gritted teeth, keeping eye contact with him until he straightened up.

"Good," he stated, "I hope you are able to handle yourself for the rest of the evening."

She watched him walk off, a frown on her face. She let out a sigh, usually after moments like this she would cry, her younger self crying for her mother, but this time she just felt the slow burn of building anger.

She wouldn't pry or follow him no longer, but she would not stay locked up like some troublesome child under punishment. There is something going on here, and she needed to start planning on how to get out of this mess.

Charlotte would remain in Boston until she knew the city enough, and then she would leave. Though, going the way she is thinking, with the things she had witnessed and experienced, she had the small fear that she would soon be at the end of her father's blade.

_Hopefully, when that day comes, I shall be ready for it. _


End file.
